


Tear

by erazedtrash



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Dystopia, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 18:26:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14170881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erazedtrash/pseuds/erazedtrash
Summary: trapped in a system where opinions mustn't exist and everything is controlled by the government, Matt wants to make a change





	Tear

**Author's Note:**

> the title of the story can be seen having its different meanings

“I will not tolerate such bigotry any longer!”

“Sir, if I may – it is not bigotry, it is science. It is the truth.”

“You may not. Get out of my office. Now!”

“Sir-“

“Out!”

Matthew left the room. His slightly longer black hair that usually hung in his eyes was sticking to his forehead from excitement, anger and stress. He had worked on this project for so long and now he was told to throw it all away. Not that he had not expected this outcome – deep down, he had known this would happen but part of him had pushed him, led him on, told him to keep going, to keep fighting. In this system, where truth was so hard to find, a clear mind was the most valuable thing one could possess.

Matt had tried to uncover the lies that had manifested themselves in the brains of the people for so long, the truth had predominantly been smothered and abolished. He was never sure if he could trust himself regardless of the fact that for a good reason he had fought this corrupted system all his life. It was so strange not to know yourself.

Matt remembered how many lies he had had to tell to get this job, to get where he was today. He remembered how many nights he had spent crying himself to sleep, terrified of losing his mind, terrified of becoming just as mindless as pretty much anyone else.

Discomfort bubbled in the pit of Matt’s stomach. There was no way of knowing if he could ever break out of this cycle of terror. The tremor of his hands had become permanent and his elevated heart rate and blood pressure could remind one of a person with a cardiac disease or something the like at times. He was (physically) healthy, though. Just constantly anxious and paranoid.

It had started with the death of his father. He had taught Matt almost everything he knew and he had told him to, above all, never trust anything except his own instincts. Some people would call him mentally fragile or weak, however, I would call him one of the most empathetic and simultaneously extremely intelligent persons I know. It had been comparable to a miracle that Matt grew up with access to legitimate education.

Now that he was trying to make people wake up, trying to make them see what they were taking for granted, he was the madman. Just a little over fifteen years ago, it had been very different, at least on the outside. Scientia potentia est. Knowledge is power. As easy as that? It's not like the government didn't supervise what information reached the people. Those who always wanted to find out more things, who wanted to educate themselves, were the dangerous ones for they could get behind the sick things going on behind the scenes in politics which the authorities were trying to hide.

Matt had been confident that the knowledge he and his father had could change much and back then, his father had warned him not to become reckless and told him never to stop being careful about his actions. When Matthew's father died, his son’s world pretty much crumbled. He almost would have given up hope.

Four and a half years ago, he had stood at his father's grave, his face covered in tears, alone. And he apologised. He apologised for the future decisions he would have to make without his father's advice. He apologised for not being as smart as his father. He apologised because his father didn't get to see the world change and Matt probably wouldn't, either.

He was 21 now and her hadn't been to his father's grave since the funeral. Matt sighed as a lonely tear ran down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away with his right hand which was shakier than the left one. “I'm so sorry, dad. This all shouldn't have happened like this.” The black-haired man was back at his small (and kind of messy) flat where he sometimes talked to his father, unsure whether he could hear him.

“I tried showing them…” Matt began and laughed quietly, without humour. “I tried showing them how insignificant humanity is and what effects pretending that we are the “gods” of this universe, that we are the ones with- with the planets in our hands is going to have if we don't take action immediately,” he explained and sniffed as more tears escaped his eyes – not tears of sadness but tears of frustration and built up rage.

“We're all going to die in a horrible way: fighting each other. Although the end of humanity would be a blessing to Earth, no questions asked there. Is this how we want to go though?” Matt paused and stared at the only frame hanging on the wall in his living room: a painting of shades of grey and red merging in the background, forming an image that look like a sunset lacking yellow (and having grey in its place) and a dark blue mountain in the foreground.

To him, it resembled the world he was living in: the background stood for the knowledge, trying to enlight society which was by the dark blue mountain that just wouldn't turn lighter. The background was slowly turning grey because the energy of those fighting for people to finally open their eyes and to notice how fake the world was was draining. Or rather it was being drained by the authorities preventing them from uncovering all the lies and what the government was hiding. The darkness representing being obedient in a system they knew nothing about and didn't really understand was so strongly present in the people's heads that letting go of it was almost impossible.

Matthew sighed. He knew he would probably get arrested. His father's project that he had continued to work on was very dangerous – it always had been. The project had been about the origin of the universe, of celestial bodies and specifically the origin of the earth.

Neither Matt nor his father had found a definite causal chain without reading moments where they just didn't know enough in order to answer all of the upcoming questions but that was okay. Matt and his father were far ahead of their time regardless. However, thus both of them posed a threat to the system because they were questioning it.

The brunette stood up and gently ran his fingertips across the surface of the painting. His eyes wandered towards his father's signature in the bottom right corner. Matt was crying again. “I tried.”

 


End file.
